Читать книгу Just Try to Stop Me - Gregg Olsen - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

As a thunderstorm pounded the airspace over Port Orchard, Erwin and Joe Thomas sat in the lobby of the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office. Hanging above the receptionist’s desk and console was a shiny steel image of salmon swirling around as though they were in the constant motion of the freedom of a river. There was a bit of irony there, of course. The fish-shaped figures were fashioned in a circle, chasing each other, going nowhere.

Janie Thomas’s husband and son were in the same steely limbo.

A rumble of thunder pulsed through the lobby, and the receptionist looked up from the magazine she was reading.

“We don’t get many storms like these,” she said. “Almost scary.”

The visitors and Kendall Stark looked over at her.

“Yeah,” Joe said, “I had a kid down the hall from my dorm room that had his bass cranked up so loud that the first time I heard it I thought it was a thunderstorm. Pretty dumb, huh?”

“Not so dumb,” Kendall said. “I had a boyfriend that played the bass so loud that I’m lucky I can hear anything anyone says.”

The mood had been fraught with tension. The small talk was an opportunity to break the ice. Joe and his dad were there, she knew, because of the video blog Brenda had released.

Kendall extended her hand to Erwin, but he declined to greet her with a handshake. Joe, whom Kendall decided favored his mother with his coloring—hair and eyes—reached out.

“Detective, we saw the thing on YouTube,” Joe said.

“I should have called you,” Kendall said.

“You should have,” Erwin said, standing with his arms wrapped around his chest in a defensive pose.

Erwin looked at his son. “He wants to know about her.”

Kendall looked at Joe and offered a quick, sympathetic nod. She turned her attention to Erwin.

“Let’s talk, okay?” She asked. “Follow me.”

The aftermath of murder is never predictable. How people behave when the unimaginable transpires is a source of endless pondering and discussion among those who deal with it every day. Sometimes people act as though they’ll never recover, that the death of the loved one is that line in the sand that will forever mark the rest of their days. Other times, relief seems to rear up, and the one closest to the victim starts planning a garage sale for the deceased’s effects before a single word of a eulogy is a puff of vapor in front of a church service.

Erwin was bitter about his wife’s betrayal, and Kendall understood why he felt that way. Her plan to just disappear with Brenda Nevins and give up everything he thought they’d shared had to have been a terrible shock. If the video blog Brenda had made about a potential affair with Sandra Sullivan had been true, then he’d have had to live with his part in what might have pushed Janie to do what she did. Their son, on the other hand, was an innocent. He’d loved his mother, and the fact that she walked away from him forever brought the kind of hurt that no child, no matter the age, could just pass off.

She led them to her office. No one wanted water or coffee. It wasn’t going to be that kind of a visit.

“Look, Detective, I want to say one thing flat out. Brenda Nevins is a goddamn liar. That’s what she is. I didn’t have an affair with anyone.”

Before Kendall could answer, Joe spoke.

“Get a grip, Dad,” he said. “This isn’t about you. No one cares about what you did or didn’t do with Sandy.”

Erwin kept his eyes on the detective. “I didn’t do anything with her but talk.”

“Whatever,” Joe said. “I don’t care. No one cares. We’re here because we’re sick of the press. We’re sick of nobody telling us what’s going on. No one even called us to tell us what was on YouTube. I got a text from a girl I used to date.”

Kendall felt sorry for Janie’s family.

“I’m sorry about that, Joe,” she said. “I really am. I should have notified you the minute I knew of the existence of the recording. I don’t have any great excuse, but I want you to know that it will never happen again.”

“That’s fine,” Erwin said, eyeing his agitated son. “Things happen very fast, Detective. We’re all still reeling from everything. Did you know that there were thirty-six media people on our front lawn this morning?”

Kendall didn’t. “Are they on your property? You can tell them they are trespassing.”

“I did,” Erwin said. “They aren’t leaving.”

“They’ll go away in time. They always do.” she said. “In the meantime, if you have any problems—if any of the media harasses you—we can send a deputy out to make them comply.”

Joe started to tear up, but he turned away so Kendall couldn’t see. His father put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, son,” Erwin said.

“It isn’t your fault, Dad. “I just . . .”

Kendall’s heart went out to the young man. He was fighting for composure in the way that young men do. No one can see them cry. No one can observe any trace of a weakness. Young men retreat into their own armor when they face disappointment, hurt, and the deepest kind of tragedy.

“We’re committed to finding Brenda Nevins and bringing her to justice,” Kendall said.

Erwin spoke up. “We know. I told Joe that.”

Joe turned to look his father in the eye. “Dad, you didn’t even love Mom. You got rid of all her stuff. You’re hanging out with Sandy all the time now.”

“Sandy and I are friends,” Erwin said, pulling back a little.

“I don’t want to argue about that anymore,” Joe said. “I don’t believe you, and you can say whatever you want, but if you had taken better care of Mom none of this would have happened.”

Kendall tried to defuse the building resentment.

“No one could have predicted what happened,” she said. “We’ve gone over everything. The FBI has too. There’s no electronic bread crumb to follow that would lead anyone to believe something was happening between the two of them.”

“Electronic,” Erwin repeated. “Why did you use that word?”

“That’s how we do things,” Kendall said. “We look through data records—computer and phone, for example. There is nothing there.”

Erwin shrugged. “That’s because Brenda Nevins didn’t have a phone or email.”

Kendall couldn’t disagree. “Yes, that’s probably part of it.”

“All right, no electronic trail, but what about other evidence? I mean, I think my mom was tricked,” Joe dried his eye on his shirtsleeve. “She might have been coerced, you know. There’s no real proof that she was really into that sick chick.”

This was difficult. Very. Janie Thomas was dead. No matter what Erwin said, he had, in fact, moved on. Joe, however, was in limbo. He didn’t want to rewrite everything that he’d believed was true. That his mom and dad loved each other. That the smiling pictures of the family that he’d rescued from the trash where his father had discarded them were proof of something.

It was only the remnant, the veneer of a lie.

“We don’t know everything about what happened before Ms. Thomas and Brenda Nevins left the institution.”

“But it’s possible that Mom didn’t go willingly, right?” Joe asked.

Janie’s son wanted some glimmer of hope that his mother was someone that he knew.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but it doesn’t appear that way at all. We have no evidence of coercion.”

The younger man couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to rewrite all that he’d thought about his mother.

“It looked like my mom was totally coerced in that video,” he said, his voice rising a little. “It didn’t look like she wanted to be there. I don’t know how you can say what you’re saying. She wasn’t like that. My mom was a good person. Everyone on the Internet and on TV is making fun of her, calling her names, deciding that she was a worthless, stupid piece of garbage, but that isn’t who she is at all.”

Present tense had slipped into his words. Joe Thomas hadn’t accepted his mother’s death.

“She was manipulated, Joe,” Kendall said. “She might have gone willingly with Brenda—and I believe she did—but once Brenda got what she wanted, your mom was no longer of value to her.”

“She was of value to me,” Joe said.

“To me too,” Erwin added.

Joe’s composure once again started to crumble. “What kind of person just uses someone like they are nothing? Like they are trash? Disposable?”

“She’s a monster,” Erwin added.

Kendall took in their words. It was a hard question to answer. Janie’s husband was correct to a degree. There were very few people in the world who behaved the way Brenda Nevins did. In reality, that kind of evil was rare. It only seemed like there was a legion of them in the Pacific Northwest. It owed more to bad luck and a plethora of crime writers in the vicinity than to the gloom of the long winters. Indeed, there had been so many serial killers like Gary Ridgway and narcissists like Diane Downs who killed to such a degree they’d become legendary. Book worthy. Film worthy. Brenda Nevins was clearly headed in that direction. She might, Kendall thought, be the most notorious of them all.

“Look,” she said, focusing her eyes first on Erwin, then Joe, “we’re all doing what we can to apprehend her and bring her to justice. I’m on it. The FBI is on it. No one is going to stop looking for her.”